


These Lyrics Won't Make a Song

by hazel_3017



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Hockey Player!Sid, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rock Star!Geno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_3017/pseuds/hazel_3017
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhenya has wanted him since before they even met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Lyrics Won't Make a Song

There is a man wandering around the airport. He looks lost and supremely confused.

 

Zhenya watches, his lips stretching into an amused smile as the man stops, looks up at the signs above him, and then squints helplessly between the Cyrillic letters and the boarding card in his hand. A few seconds later, the man sighs despondently, shoulders sagging in dismay.

 

He’s cute, Zhenya thinks. Pretty even, with strong, defined features, a solid frame, and an ass that is nothing short of amazing.

 

Zhenya wants him.

 

He reaches down to grab his duffle bag, and then stands from his seat, making his way out of the lounge he’s been in.

 

He starts walking towards the man, his steps lazy, predatory.

 

“Not good, you supposed to be in gate C6,” Zhenya says, reading over the man’s shoulder. He suppresses another smile when the man jumps violently, spinning around to glare at the stranger who’d so daringly pressed up against him. Zhenya’s eyes gleam. “Only D gates here,” he says.

 

He watches as the man takes him in, eyes roving up because of Zhenya’s superior height. He loses his glare when their eyes meet, his full lips parting in something like surprise.

 

Zhenya imagines what those lips would look like wrapped around his cock. He plans to find out.

 

“Oh,” the man says, and his breathy voice does nothing to discourage Zhenya’s desire. “You speak English.”

 

Zhenya smiles. “Da. Only little. Need more practice, I'm think. You help?” He takes a step closer, smile turning filthy when he watches the man swallow heavily, a flush spreading across his cheeks as his pupils dilate with what Zhenya knows has to be arousal. It’s a good look on him. “You be teacher, I be student.”

 

“Are you…are you _propositioning_ me?”

 

Zhenya laughs at his scandalous tone. He takes another step forward, crowding into the other man’s space. He dips his head, and whispers into his ear, “Yes.”

 

The man’s breath hitches, and he blinks rapidly. “We just met. We don’t even know each other’s names—”

 

“Wrong,” Zhenya says, because even though the man obviously has no clue that Zhenya is one of the most recognisable people in the world, Zhenya knows exactly who the man is. “You are Sidney Crosby. Best hockey player in whole world.”

 

Sidney startles, his blush deepening.

 

Zhenya feels his fingers twitch at the sight. He wants to reach out, stroke across the cut of his high cheekbones, feel the warmth of his blush.

 

“You know who I am.” Sidney sounds pleased despite his obvious embarrassment. “Do you play hockey?”

 

“Not anymore,” Zhenya replies, shaking his head in amusement. He’s heard, of course, how singularly oblivious Sidney Crosby was to all things not hockey. How single-minded and obsessed he could be. Zhenya thinks he should probably feel guilty about exploiting that.

 

He’s not.

 

“I'm ruin knee. Can’t play anymore. But, was good, maybe better than Sidney Crosby if I'm still play,” he teases, grinning mischievously.

 

Sidney puffs his cheeks out at this, obviously offended at having his superiority questioned.

 

He somehow manages to look simultaneously sexy and adorable, and Zhenya feels his want grow.

 

Sidney opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it, tilts his head to one side and narrows his eyes thoughtfully at Zhenya. Suddenly, he gasps. “You’re Evgeni Malkin!” he says, and his voice has gone all breathy again. “You won gold with Russia in the 2004 world championship; you were _amazing_.”

 

Zhenya grins. Nobody recognises him because of hockey anymore; not since Zhenya and his band became Grammy award-winning artists, selling millions of records worldwide.

 

“You can call me Geno,” Zhenya says magnanimously, because North Americans have only ever been able to butcher his name. “I have tapes of hockey game in apartment here in Moscow. You want see?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Sidney responds eagerly, and there’s no more space left between them now, pressed indecently close in the middle of the airport. There will probably be pictures of this, Zhenya knows, but can’t bring himself to care. Not when Sidney looks so lovely, so eager that Zhenya can't help but want to _wreck_ him. Wants Sidney under him, wants him moaning Zhenya's name. 

 

“No other place to be?” he asks, giving Sidney an out, looking pointedly at the boarding card in Sidney's hand. Zhenya might be able to blow off his previous engagement; he’s an eccentric rock star, it’s expected. But Sidney is a different breed. Responsibility is practically his middle name, or so Sanja had gossiped at Zhenya once.

 

Sidney shakes his head firmly, letting his boarding card flutter carelessly to the ground. “Let’s go,” he says, and allows Zhenya to lace their fingers together, following him as he leads him out of the airport.

 

They haven’t even closed the door to his apartment before Sidney shucks of his shoes, looks up at Zhenya, and breathes out, “You should kiss me now.”

 

Zhenya does. 

 

He crashes their lips together, fingers roving through Sidney's hair as their tongues battle for dominance, and it’s _glorious_.

 

“Bed,” Sidney manages to say between kisses, after the door has been closed and both their shirts have been shed. For Zhenya, who has Sidney pressed up against a wall, one knee pushed in between his thighs, it's the best idea he's ever heard.

 

He gives one last bite to Sidney’s lush lower lip, and then he pulls away reluctantly. “Come,” he says, tangling their fingers again. “I show you bed.”

 

“And then the game tapes later,” Sidney adds as they make their way to his room, and Zhenya barks out a surprised laugh.

 

“Da,” he says, “then the tapes later.”

 

They don’t waste time when they enter the bedroom, removing the remainder of their clothing. Zhenya topples Sidney onto his bed, and steps back, taking a moment to just stare at him.

 

Sidney stares back; his eyes are bold as he spreads his legs in invitation.

 

" _Fucking hell_ ," Zhenya groans out in Russian, staring transfixed at the sight.

 

Sidney is quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

 

“Gonna ruin you,” Zhenya promises, climbing onto the bed and settling between Sidney's thick thighs. “ _Wreck_ you.”

 

“I bet you can’t,” Sidney taunts, even as his breath hitches in pleasure when Zhenya closes his hand around his dick. “I bet you wouldn’t even know how.”

 

Zhenya growls. “Oh, I’m know how.” He captures Sidney’s lips in a brutal kiss, hand twisting just so around the cock in his hand, gathering the pre-cum at the end and using it as lubricant.

 

Sidney gasps into Zhenya’s mouth, hips bucking involuntary.

 

Zhenya kisses the corner of his mouth, and then his jaw, peppering it with kisses, before eventually fastening his lips to Sidney’s neck.

 

He quickly discovers that Sidney is sensitive there, and Zhenya feasts gleefully. He sucks large marks onto his neck as he jerks Sidney off, licks over them after, pleased. He feels possessive, wants the marks to stay, wants the whole world to see them and know that Zhenya left them there.

 

That Sidney _let him._

 

Sidney’s hands buries into Zhenya’s hair, and he feels them clench painfully tight as Sidney stiffens beneath him, breathing out a litany of “ _Geno_ ,” and “ _Yes_.”

 

Zhenya lifts his head from his neck, locks his eyes on Sidney’s face as he comes, and commits the sight to memory, determining to never, ever forget it.

 

“Was good, da?” Zhenya asks, unable to help his smug grin. He gives a few last teasing strokes to Sidney’s spent cock.

 

Sidney gurgles, seemingly beyond words.

 

Zhenya’s grin widens, and he leans down to press a quick kiss against Sidney’s bruised lips. “Now, I’m make you feel _really_ good.”

 

Sidney’s mouth drops open, his eyes widening. “You’re not done?” he says incredulously, and Zhenya gives him another kiss, and then another. He can’t help himself. He’s addicted now.

 

“Not for long while yet,” Zhenya promises, and his hand, streaked with Sidney’s cum, is already inching its way behind his balls.

 

His index finger rubs over the rim of his hole, and Sidney bucks wildly, a loud wail escaping his lips.

 

Zhenya startles, eyes widening in surprise as he meets Sidney’s gaze. “I’m really sensitive,” Sidney explains, biting his lip and looking at Zhenya shyly.

 

Zhenya blinks, but then a slow smile spreads across his face. “ _How_ sensitive?” he asks, and presses down with his finger, eyes riveted to Sidney’s face.

 

“Geno!” Sidney moans, and it’s probably the best sound Zhenya has heard in his _life_. “I want more, don't just tease. Please.”

 

One day, Zhenya promises himself, he is going to really explore how sensitive Sidney really is, but right now his cock is so hard he can barely think, just knows that he _needs_ to be inside Sidney’s ass _right_   _now_.

 

He pulls his hand back, and leans over Sidney to root around in his nightstand, locating the lube and a condom.

 

“Going to finger you now, Sid,” Zhenya says, flipping the cap of the lube and pouring the liquid over his fingers. “Then going to fuck you so hard you feel tomorrow. So hard you _scream_.”

 

Sidney whimpers, but helpfully reaches down to pull his thighs apart, holding himself open for Zhenya.

 

Zhenya has to close his eyes for a second, to keep himself from coming, but then it’s no time at all before his index finger is back at Sidney’s hole. There is no teasing this time as he eases the digit inside.

 

He takes his time stretching him, despairing over the limitation of his own vision, wanting desperately to watch his fingers move in and out of that tight, hot hole, but unable to tear his gaze away from Sidney’s face. It's flushed a beautiful red, and Zhenya stares, taking in his bright, feverish eyes and red-bruised lips.

 

He is so very beautiful; Zhenya wants to keep him forever.

 

“Geno!” Sidney moans again, loudly, and works his ass against the pressure of Zhenya’s fingers, four of them now. “Please, Geno, I want more. Want you inside. Come on, fuck me already.”

 

Zhenya can’t help his grin at his obvious impatience. Sidney is demanding even in his submission. It’s a delicious contrast.

 

He makes one last scissoring motion before withdrawing his fingers, testing the give of the flesh. Zhenya is _big_ , and he has no desire to hurt his lover.

 

“You want?” he asks when he’s put on the condom, giving Sidney one last out.

 

Sidney glares up at him, his mouth pursed into a displeased pout. “ _Fuck me!_ ” he says, orders, really, and Zhenya obeys.

 

He rests the head of his cock against Sidney’s hole, holding still, and then a sudden twitch of Sidney’s hips has Zhenya’s cockhead catching on his loosened rim.

 

They groan in sync.

 

Zhenya pushes forward, slowly fucking into Sidney. He has to close his eyes when he’s bottomed out, the sensation of being inside Sidney almost too much for him.

 

It’s so, so very good.

 

“ _Move_ ,” Sidney says, his breathing laboured. His breath stutters when Zhenya finally does, pulling his hips back before snapping forward, driving his cock all the way inside.

 

“Fuck,” Zhenya curses. It's good, so, so good, and gets even better as they get into a rhythm. Zhenya loves how the tightness of Sidney’s hole clings adoringly to his cock, so perfectly, as if Zhenya’s dick was always meant to slot inside Sidney.

 

And maybe it was, Zhenya thinks crazily, because Sidney is his now, surely. He belongs to him. Zhenya will never let him go.

 

He grits his teeth, desperate to come, but determined not to until Sidney reaches his second climax. He angles his hips, finds Sidney's prostate, and then smirks smugly when Sidney practically mewls in pleasure.

 

He keeps them in that position, and fucks into Sidney, fast and hard. 

 

" _Geno_ ," Sidney says, his head trashing back and forth, and his fingers bury into Zhenya's hair again, mindlessly tugging at the short strands.

 

Zhenya groans, and hefts his weight onto his left arm. He reaches between their bodies for where Sidney’s dick has hardened again, squeezing his right hand around the smooth flesh.

 

It’s too much, and Sidney comes, hands falling from Zhenya's hair, and he screams his name so loudly that Zhenya thinks the whole building must have heard.

 

He fucks Sidney through his orgasm, grunting at the tightening hold around his fat cock, so good and so perfect it is near painful.

 

Zhenya never wants it to end.

 

But it can't last, and eventually his stamina fails him. He drives his hips into Sidney, pressing as close as he can before he stiffens, and roars his release as he comes, filling the condom.

 

He barely has the presence of mind to collapse to Sidney’s side instead of on top of him, grunting as his cock slips free. He flips an arm over his eyes, panting heavily with exhaustion and the tingling aftershocks of really, really good sex.

 

Sidney turns to look at him, propping his head on his hand. He reaches out, stroking idle fingers through Zhenya’s sweat-slicked hair, the touch gentle and apologetic over where he'd pulled at it before. Zhenya hums at the caress, and then he catches Sidney’s hand in his, pulling him down for a wet, messy kiss.

 

When they pull apart, Sidney smiles at him, his hazel eyes bright and happy. “So,” he says, “where do you keep the game tapes?”

 

Zhenya groans, but Sidney is not to be deterred, which is how he spends that Saturday night—instead of the TV appearance he was supposed to do—listening to Sidney Crosby very seriously criticise his hockey.

 

Zhenya loves it.

 

It’s the story he is going to tell his grandchildren when they ask how their grandparents met.

 

Minus the sex, of course.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by this [gifset](http://sidmalkin.tumblr.com/post/94975603824/au-for-the-past-year-there-have-been-many) created by [sidmalkin](http://sidmalkin.tumblr.com/) over at tumblr
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction


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